On the Run
by lrose55
Summary: This story is set before the Percy Jackson series. We follow Annabeth Chase as she runs away form home and discovers the dangerous world of gods, half-bloods, and monsters. Enjoy and review, please! *I don't own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series!*
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Sorry this is short! I want to dedicate this chapter to my friend redwaves9! Check out her fanfic!**

Chapter One:

I slipped downstairs, my small feet causing the wooden stairs to creak slightly. My hands clenched the straps of the small backpack that was slung over my shoulder, which I had hastily stuffed with a change of clothes, a sweatshirt, a flashlight, a book, some energy bars, and, in a small case, one of the kitchen knives. I'd heard of some pretty scary stuff out in the world, and I wasn't taking any chances.

I reached the kitchen and tiptoed to the back door. My fingers undid the latch and I held my breath, half expecting my stepmother to leap from the shadows, her shouts of accusation filling the house. No one came. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I slipped out the door, shutting it gently behind me. The night was cold, and the air was thick with the scent of pine. Above me, the stars glittered, cold and distant. I recognized the different constellations I'd read about: Leo, Perseus, and Hercules. I turned for one last look at my house. It had always felt different since my stepmother moved in. But now, looking at it in the silent night, it looked so… empty. Like a discarded eggshell left to rot in the garbage bin. I could still stay, creep back inside and crawl into my warm, familiar bed. For a fleeting moment I was tempted. Then my reluctance turned into a hard resolve. I could do this. After all, I _was _a Chase. Tucking a strand of long, blonde hair behind my ear, I turned around and strode into the night, the thin, yellow moon guiding me across the land.

The next few weeks were a blur. I moved steadily West with no particular destination in mind, sleeping by day and traveling by night so I wouldn't get caught by the police and returned home like a lost dog. My blonde hair grew filthier and filthier, and one day when I looked at my reflection in a river I saw my grey eyes had a slightly wild quality that scared me. I didn't look at my reflection again.

One day, as I was sleeping under a bush in the woods off a highway, a loud crash woke me. I sat bolt upright, my senses at their height. My hand moved subconsciously to the knife in my bag, grasping it by its leather hilt. As my eyes scanned the surrounding trees, they focused in on a small clump of bushes about a hundred feet away. It was the only thing in the area that could conceal potential danger. Quivering with fear, I knelt down and picked up a stick. Then, with all the strength I could muster, I hurled the stick into the bushes.

There was a hiss of alarm, and out of the bushes shot a small, lithe cat. Its coat was a pale brown dappled with orange. Its ears were torn, and its ribs were showing through its dirty pelt. It regarded me with its auburn eyes. A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I'd been scared by a stray cat! I looked at it again, feeling sympathy. We weren't that different, the cat and I. We both were lost, homeless, and alone. I knelt down and pulled an energy bar from my bag. Unwrapping it, I held it out to the cat.

"Here you go, cat," I said, my voice sounding hoarse after having not been used for weeks. "Eat up."

The cat padded forward tentatively and sniffed the bar. It instantly recoiled and hissed at me. Confused, I put the bar closer to its muzzle.

"Eat, cat! I'm trying to help you."

The cat crouched low and unsheathed its claws. Before I could react, its paw darted forward and raked its claws across my hand. I yelped in pain, dropping the bar. Blood was welling up from the cut, which was long but shallow. I glared at the cat, who hissed again. Furious, I picked up a rock by my foot and hurled it at the creature. The rock hit the cat on the head and crumbled into pieces. I took a step back, shocked. Fear suddenly coiled in my stomach as I recognized the irregularity of the situation. The cat hissed again, and advanced. And then it started to… _change. _It expanded rapidly, muscular limbs replacing the scrawny legs. The fur along its back thickened and turned a metallic gold that glinted in the sun. Around its head grew a mane, and its eyes were now black coals in the center of its face. When it hissed again, it came out not as a hiss, but as an earth-shaking roar. My eyes stretched wide, and, heart thudding like a hammer, I grabbed my bag and ran from the massive lion that had appeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

I sprinted through the woods, my heard pounding in my chest. My breath was coming in ragged gasps that shook my small, fragile body as I pelted through the forest, my blonde hair streaming behind me. The sound of my feet scrambling through the leaves was drowned out by the constant thunder of the lion's quickly approaching paws. He roared again, right behind me. I saw the shadow of his paw raise, and I threw myself to the side as a massive paw thundered down on the exact spot where I'd been standing. The lion's claws had been unsheathed, and now dug into the ground as he advanced on his cornered prey. He snarled at me, and I backed up, whamming into a tree. He truly had me cornered. Dropping my bag, I pulled out the knife and held it up in my trembling hand. What had once seemed like a measurable weapon now seemed small and useless. However, it was all I had.

The lion took another step, and I looked at the tree above me. If I hit it at forty-five degree angle, then I should be able to rebound at a ninety-degree angle, taking the density of the tree and bark into account and judging for the wind speed….

Suddenly the lion leapt, interrupting my calculations. I leapt at what I hoped was a forty-five degree angle, grabbing onto a branch and, without a second's hesitation, pushing off at an angle parallel to the ground. Fear had given my legs strength, and I landed exactly where I'd planned: square on the lion's back. The lion reared up in fury, its claws raking the tree. I could see now the claws were a glistening bronze, not the usual keratin. I reached for the knife in my jacket. Suddenly, the lion bucked, catapulting me into the air. A screamed ripped itself from my lips as I fell. And then I landed on the lion's back again, with a jolt that rattled my teeth. The lion prepared to buck again, and I clasped the golden fur tightly with one hand. The other still held the knife. Before the beast could buck again, I plunged the knife into its body. It passed through the flesh as if it were made of water. It didn't make a scratch. I tried again, with the same effect. Screaming with frustration and fear, I hurled the knife into the forest.

` The lion's claws darted back at me, and I scrambled backwards across the fur. Despite my efforts to get out of range, the lion's claw still raked itself down my leg. I gasped in pain, my head spinning. Blood spilled out, staining the golden fur. The lion positioned itself for another attack, one that I knew I would not survive. As the claws rose, an idea struck me. Crazy, yes, but still possible. It still offered the slightest chance at survival.

As the claws began to descend, I flattened myself on the lion's back, digging my fingers into the coarse fur so he'd know where I was. The next few seconds seemed to occur in slow motion. The lion's claws were an inch above me, and I rolled suddenly to the side. My momentum carried me off the lion, and I was falling to the ground. My leg was sending waves of pain through my body. I watched as the lion's bronze claws impaled his body, and I distantly heard his roar of agony. Then the beast exploded into dust that drifted in the wind. I hit the ground hard, and finally gave in to the darkness as it closed in around my eyes.

When I woke, I wished desperately I were still unconscious. Still oblivious to the world, so I wouldn't have to think, to operate. So I wouldn't have to remember the traumatic experience of the day before. The lion…

I scrambled to my feet. Instantly my left knee buckled, and I crumpled to the ground. Waves of shock and pain flooded me. The lion… the knife… the powder… I shook my head, trying to clear it. I reached for my bag, which was covered with a sickly yellow dust. I brushed it off quickly, and then began tending to myself. I drank some water and consumed an energy bar. I then re-organized my bag and changed clothing. It was only then did I look at my leg.

My entire thigh was caked with dried blood. I bit my lip, knowing that I had to rinse off the blood. I took my water bottle and trickled some of my precious water on the wound. Within a few minutes I had a clear view of my injury. It was a long slice that ran down my thigh. Blood still trickled from it, although most of the blood had clotted. I took my used clothing, which had been pretty much destroyed in the attack, and ripped it into strips. I then created a makeshift bandage, which I rolled my pants back over. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, as long as it didn't get infected, it should scab within a few days. I was lucky that the claws hadn't cut deeper. The claws that were… bronze. My head spun. The lion seemed like something from a dream, with its gleaming fangs and metallic fur that couldn't feel my knife. But it wasn't. It was real, all of it. Confusion and panic bubbled up inside me, and my stomach churned. I buried my head in my arms and began to shake with silent sobs of fear. The realization of how close I'd come to death was hitting me hard now, and I grasped the ground beneath me, to remind me it was still there. To reassure me that it wouldn't spin away like my certainty of what was real and what wasn't. A teardrop rolled down my cheek.

"I want to go home," I whispered through my muffled sobs. "I want to go home_._" I laid there for the rest of the day and far into the night, finally falling asleep to the soporific chirping of the crickets.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I want to thank redwaves9 and trustingHim17 for reviewing! Thanks guys! Sorry it's been a while since I last updated!**

Chapter 3:

A dull, throbbing ache in my leg woke me from my slumber. I cracked open my eyes, still puffy from last night's sobbing, and let the weak morning sunlight slant in. The air was fresh without the salty smell of blood that had hung thickly before. Birds were chirping merrily to each other. It seemed everything was okay.

But it wasn't. And it didn't matter if the world didn't know that, because _I _knew that. I started shaking again, panic threatening to overwhelm me. _Monsters, monsters, monsters…_

I shook my head. Enough. I was done wallowing in self-pity. I stood carefully, my bad leg shaking with the effort. Grabbing my few belongings, I set off towards the rising sun: east.

A few hours later I was sitting in a field, dehydrated, discouraged, too tired to go on until I'd had some water and rest. The sun blazed directly above me, burning its mark into the parched ground. Stalks of wheat bent over my head, their arched heads shielding me from the blazing sun above. My dry tongue licked my cracked lips hungrily, searching for drops of water that weren't there. I had drunk the rest of my water over the course of the day, but even still, I was weak. As I prepared to grit my teeth and move on, a shadow fell around me. Fear shooting through me, I scrambled to my feet only to see a boy, a few years older than myself, standing above me, hands on his hips. He had tousled brown hair and hazelnut eyes that glared down at me accusingly.

"This is privet property," he said pointedly. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I…" I struggled for words. "Uh… sorry, I guess. Um, I'll go. Right. Uh, bye." I swept up my backpack, intending to march off in a dignified manner, but was forced to limp. Every time my left let supported my weight, a small jolt of pain rushed through me, and I winced.

"Hey," the boy called after me, his voice taking a concerned tone. "Are you okay? You're limping pretty badly."

"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth.

"No, you're not," the boy responded, jogging up to me. He reached his hand out, and I slapped it away.

"I _don't _need your help!" I spat, shaking with fatigue and pain.

He grabbed my wrist in a quick motion that left me unable to twist out of his grasp.

"I'm not going to let you go out alone like this," he said to me. "Come with me. My mom can help."

I bit back a cutting remark. I did need food and water. And here it was, being offered to me on a silver platter. I bit my lip, trying not to let the boys eyes boring into mine unnerve me.

"Fine," I sighed at last. "But I'm not staying long."

A few minutes later I was sitting in a small, messy kitchen, with towers made of dirty dishes piled up on the counters. A short, brown haired woman with a kind face was presenting me with plates of bread, cheese, apples, and other assorted foods. Although I resisted at first, my hunger had overtaken me, and so far I'd wolfed down three plates, as well as a full pitcher of water. I finally settled back, feeling slightly nauseous in a good, stuffed way.

"So," the boy's mother said, settling down in the chair next to her son. "Tell me about yourself."

I bit my lip, unsure of where to start. The brown haired boy gave me an encouraging smile, but his mother simply looked at me with a curious expression.

"Well," I began. "My name is Annabeth. I'm seven years old." I bit my lip anxiously as I waited for the reaction to my age. But all I received was a nod to continue.

I fiddled with my hair. I didn't want to lie to these kind people, but I had no choice. If they found out I'd run away, they would send me back to California, and I simply _couldn't _have that. So I took a deep breath, and began to talk.

"I was camping with my family, but I went off exploring and got lost. I couldn't find my way back all night, and I really hurt my leg on a rock. I wandered into your farm accidentally, and your son, uh…"

"Billy," the woman said.

"R-right," I stammered. "Billy found me and brought me here." I glanced at the woman's face, which was still the same expression. Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to look as meek as possible and whimpered, "I'm so scared! And my leg hurts really bad."

The woman's face softened instantly. "Now, now, Annabeth. It's alright. My name's Mae, and I'm going to help you."

I whimpered again, hoping she would continue to buy the act.

"Now, may I see your leg?" She continued.

I nodded, and rolled up my pants to show the gash. Billy gasped at the sight of the dried, crimson blood that caked my skin. Mae kept her face neutral, but her eyes portrayed some of her initial surprise.

"Quite a large rock, huh?" Mae joked, her smile strained.

"You have no idea," I muttered.

"We should take you to the hospital," Mae said, gathering her things. "You may need stitches."

"The hospital?" I exclaimed in horror. If I went to the hospital, I would be found out for sure!

"Um…" Mae said, puzzled. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

My mind raced for an answer. "Uh… well…" I stammered, as Billy and Mae scrutinized me closely. "Well… it's just that… I'm, uh, _deathly _afraid of hospitals," I said quickly.

"Oh, _really,_" Mae said doubtingly.

"Yes! Truly! They terrify me! When I was young, my great-grandfather Bruce had a heart attack! In a hospital, I watched my great-grandfather Brain- I mean, _Bruce- _be unplugged and slowly fade from this world onto the next and leave me alone with a terrible fear of hospitals," I gushed, unable to close my mouth. "I can't even go near them anymore without feeling frantic waves of terror and-"

Mae held up a hand, stopping me mid-sentence. "I think I get the idea," she sighed. "Very well. I've done it to Billy once or twice before, so I think I could do it now. I'll sew your leg."

Hours later, I lay in bed in a white nightgown, my blonde hair still damp from my shower. My leg had been stitched, and I was to remove them in two weeks. A feeling of safety and security washed over me for the first time since I ran away. But I couldn't stay here. Tomorrow Mae was going to call my family and return my home. She had even given me a compass, so I would never get lost again. Her generosity was warming, and I hated to leave like this. But I had no choice. I silently swung out of bed, my bare feet making no noise as I walked across the room to the pile of fresh clothes Mae had given me for tomorrow. I changed silently, slipping my new compass into my pocket. I then crept into the kitchen, re-packed my bag, and slipped over to the screen door. My fingers flitted towards the handle, but I hesitated, and turned back. I found a piece of paper and a pen and scrawled a note.

_Mae-_

_ I cannot thank you enough for what you did: the food, the shelter, the stitches, and the compass. But I cannot stay here. I cannot go home. I home you understand that I will never forget you and Billy. Nothing I could ever do would express my gratitude enough._

_ Forgive me._

_ Annabeth_

I carefully placed the note on the counter. I then opened the kitchen drawer, and slipped out a knife. It's blade caught the faint moonlight streaming through the window. I placed the knife in my backpack and opened the screen door, melting into the shadows that had gathered around the house.


End file.
